Yukio Mishima is a revolutionary kind of author. Not only does he work in all kinds of
references to and criticisms of Japans rapid modernization, but he uses Japanese
tradition, mixed with contemporary themes and styles, to further drive home the point. In
the collection, Death in Midsummer and Other Stories, Mishima uses the style of the
Japanese Noh play to create an eerie and disturbing piece.

Noh is a traditional style of play that is still popular in Japan. Mostly performed by
men, Noh uses rhythm, music, poetry, and highly stylized movements. Today, there are many
professional and amateur Noh groups, and both men and women participate. The plays focus
on aesthetic, and it seems to me that we might call them "melodramatic" in
America, but I suppose Id have to see many more to really make a guess about how US
audiences would react. At any rate, it is easy to see why Mishima chose to write in the
Noh form. According to a few different websites I visited, Noh was governmentally
supported during the Tokugawa period, and it was the official performance art of the
military. Knowing Mishimas ties to and affection for the military and samurai class,
its easy to understand why he would be compelled to write a play in the Noh style.
During the Meiji Reform the Noh play fell out of favor, but troupes managed to keep
together because of private sponsors. It is during and after the Meiji period that amateur
Noh groups spring up.

Mishimas play is called Dojoji, and takes place in a secondhand furniture
shop. The Dealer has organized a private auction for some very rich customers. He is
selling a giant wardrobe, big enough to fit a double bed in. The Dealer explains that the
wardrobe is up for auction because it belonged to one of the rich families who "has
gone down a bit in the world" since the end of WWII, so they must sell their
furniture. The wardrobe is very impressive, and soon the bidding hits three million Yen.
However, just as the bidding reaches a climax, a woman enters the scene, bidding only
three thousand Yen for the wardrobe.

The Dealer and the rest of the audience ask her why shes causing such a
disturbance. The woman explains that she is Kiyoko, a dancer, and she knows the history of
this particular wardrobe. It belonged to the Sakurayama family, and Mrs. Sakurayama
allowed her lover, Yasushi, to live in it. Yasushi stayed there all day, every day,
waiting to be called out by Mrs. Sakurayama. One day, Mr. Sakurayama heard a noise coming
from the wardrobe, and he shot a gun into it over and over. Yasushi began screaming, and
Mr. Sakurayama kept shooting "until the horrible screams finally died away and the
blood came gushing through the crack under the wardrobe door."

After her story, nobody wants to buy the wardrobe, but all of the men want to take the
beautiful Kiyoko out to dinner. The audience departs, but Kiyoko stays to try to purchase
the wardrobe. The Dealer wont let her have it for her low price, so she tells him
more about the story. Yasushi was also Kiyokos lover, and she thinks he left her not
because of Mrs. Sakurayama, but because Kiyoko is too beautiful. She describes her surplus
of beauty as being a "cogwheel" that is missing in her "machine." It
seems like a strange metaphor to me: Having too much of something is like not having it at
all? Its interesting, and whats even more interesting is how far out of his
way Mishima seems to go to put in some industrialist references.

He follows up with this reference by giving the Dealer a brief monologue about the
futility of the industrialists goals and their "cheap gadgets." He says of
the industrialists that "as long as they live, theyll never grasp the simple
fact that an article only acquires value as it gradually becomes old, obsolete, and
useless." Antiques are the only valuable things  old things, traditional
things. Mishima is very heavy-handed here: Respect his use of the Noh play; revere
traditional Japan. During this lenghty interlude, the Noh music comes in. To strengthen
Mishimas point, the Dealer comments that the sounds come from a factory. Again, we
see Mishimas combination of tradition and progress. Also, we can fully interpret all
of these messages into one that seems to fit Mishimas feelings about modern Japan:
Something must be ugly in order to be useful and desireable in modern society, but what
should really be revered are old things.

Kiyoko, realizing the Dealer is not going to budge on his price, steals the key and
disappears into the wardrobe. She locks herself inside so the Dealer cant get her
out. There is a light inside, and mirrors on each wall. Just after Kiyoko goes inside, the
Superintendent runs into the shop. The Super runs Kiyokos apartment building, and he
has heard from her friend, the Pharmacist, that Kiyoko had just stolen a vial of sulphuric
acid. He is worried shell splash it on someone in a fit of rage. Once he realizes
shes inside the wardrobe, he and the Dealer worry shell disfigure herself with
it because she has been talking for so long about how her beauty is her curse. The two
hear scream and wilt because they think Kiyoko has done the horrible deed.

Kiyoko opens the door, and she has not damaged her beautiful face. She explains that
she realized, looking at the infinite reflections of herself inside the wardrobe, that
nothing would ruin her beauty. The loss of her one true love couldnt do it, so how
could anything else. She decides to leave the acid behind, and begins primping for her
date with one of the rich men who had attended the auction before.

Its a strange ending. When all is said and done, not much happens. But the
journey is incredible. The play is both very sad and highly intriguing. I think it would
be much better to see it performed, in Japanese, so I could get more of a sense of the
musical, rhythmic nature of the play. But even without that aspect, it is easy to see
where this play comes from in relation to Mishima. Mishimas favorite things are in
this play: issues of beauty, tradition, modernization, and progress; allusions to
traditional, military forms of art; criticism of the nouveau riche in Japan. Im
enjoying reading Mishimas work, and I look forward to much more of it.

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